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<h1><a href="https://archiveofourown.org/works/26361277">To Do Anything</a> by <a class='authorlink' href='https://archiveofourown.org/users/PinkLillies420/pseuds/PinkLillies420'>PinkLillies420</a></h1>

<table class="full">

<tr><td><b>Category:</b></td><td>A Series of Unfortunate Events - Lemony Snicket</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Genre:</b></td><td>Abuse, Age Difference, Canon Divergence, Canon-Typical Violence, Drinking, Drunken Flirting, Dubious Consent, Emotional Manipulation, F/M, Mind Manipulation, Older Man/Younger Woman, Underage Drinking, Violaf</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Language:</b></td><td>English</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Status:</b></td><td>In-Progress</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Published:</b></td><td>2020-09-08</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Updated:</b></td><td>2020-11-15</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Packaged:</b></td><td>2021-05-18 06:40:23</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Rating:</b></td><td>Mature</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Warnings:</b></td><td>Graphic Depictions Of Violence, Underage</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Chapters:</b></td><td>4</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Words:</b></td><td>14,324</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Publisher:</b></td><td>archiveofourown.org</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Story URL:</b></td><td>https://archiveofourown.org/works/26361277</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Author URL:</b></td><td>https://archiveofourown.org/users/PinkLillies420/pseuds/PinkLillies420</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Summary:</b></td><td><div class="userstuff">
              <p>Violet, Klaus, and Sunny tragically lose their parents to a house fire. What's even worse is the events to come: living with Count Olaf and trying to survive his nefarious schemes to steal their fortune.</p>
<p>How will Violet save her siblings from this treacherous plot? She will have to be willing to do whatever it takes to save them</p>
            </div></td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Relationships:</b></td><td>Violet Baudelaire/Count Olaf</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Comments:</b></td><td>7</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Kudos:</b></td><td>31</td></tr>

</table>

<a name="section0001"><h2>1. Chapter 1</h2></a>
<div class="story"><div class="fff_chapter_notes fff_head_notes"><b>Author's Note:</b><blockquote class="userstuff">
      <p>This is my first fanfic for this fandom. I aspire to stay consistent with the original writing style in the books, and of course it must be said that I do not own any of these characters. More tags to be added as the story progresses. If you feel so inspired to leave a comment, please do so! I love getting feedback from readers.</p>
    </blockquote></div><div class="userstuff module">
    
    <p>This story is filled with pain and sorrow. It is one so vile and treacherous that no man could conjure it from their imagination. This terrible, no good story starts with the untimely death of Mr. and Mrs. Baudelaire, who fell at the hands of their quite suspicious house fire. To any man passing by on the street who had seen the Baudelaire’s estate previously would most likely correct the term ‘house’ for mansion. It was no secret that the Baudelaire’s were well off, however should someone meet them at the weekly flea market, would have no indication for both the parents and their three lovely children gave no sense of being rich or snobby. Very much unlike a young girl who lives far away that has something against the sense of smell and delicious pastry desserts. Now a reader might be asking, but what of the three children of the late Mr. and Mrs. Baudelaire? Surely it is easy to guess that in a story so awful those poor children were left behind, now to only be seen as orphans.</p>
<p>When Violet, Klaus, and Sunny stepped off of the trolley onto Briny Beach that chilly morning, they had not a single inclination that they would be leaving the beach parent-less. More so they would not find out about the fateful death of their parents until much later; Mr. Poe’s cough forever staining their memories back to the moment on the beach that he informed them they were in fact, now orphans. “Violet, Klaus, Sunny.” Mr. Poe politely regarded each Baudelaire, “It is my regretful duty to inform you that your parents have perished in a terrible house fire.” Now again one who had seen the estate before would say ‘mansion’ but none of the children would say that; even if they weren’t in disbelief of the horrendous news they just received.</p>
<p>“But- how could that happen? We were just there with them.” Klaus’ voice had nearly broken. Mr. Poe fixed his hat and stared off above Klaus’s head. There was nothing of visual interest behind the boy but it was an easier sight than to look him in the eyes.</p>
<p>“I am sure a smart boy such as yourself should know how a fire starts. Well when I was your age, you could often find me playing with matches. Though once I had accidentally set my mother’s drapes up in flames, my interest in fire was reduced drastically. I imagine there was a candle left unattended that soon spread and destroyed the entire house. Your parents with it.” Neither of the three Baudelaire children felt the heart to correct Mr. Poe; they were in fact very smart children and all knew how a fire is started. Klaus’ question was rhetorical, a word which means there is no intention for it to be answered. The sequential days following this dreary scene are none happier and one would be afraid to say if not even worse. Mrs. Poe gave all three children just one bed to sleep in, and the Poe’s twin boys would whisper ‘orphan’ any time they passed the three siblings. While these were most definitely unfortunate experiences for the children to endure, things did not take a true turn for the worst until Mr. Poe piled them into the car to meet their closest living, guardian. It seems to be important to note where the comma has been placed in the previous sentence. It is much like the expression found on funny posters, ‘let’s eat, grandma. Let’s eat, grandma. Commas save lives,’ where in the Baudelaire’s case the comma dictates a guardian that lives in the closest proximity rather than the closest biological relative that would be notated by ‘closest, living guardian.’</p>
<p>Violet and Klaus both shared a look, one that could only be understood between the two siblings, as Mr. Poe’s car came to a stop outside a quaint home. Unfortunately for the children that quaint house was home to Justice Strauss, an unmarried female judge. She would have been an excellent guardian for the children, had the world been fair. Alas, it was across the street Mr. Poe brought the children, to the home of “renowned actor”, Count Olaf. Not to place blame on anyone, but if someone should be held accountable for the misery that was soon to be unleashed on the three Baudelaire’s, money could be bet against Mr. Poe. As an adult man who dealt with countless amounts of money a day, his lack of attention to details and street smarts blinded him for the obvious red flags the moment Count Olaf opened his front door that morning. The inside of his home reflected the outside, it was in an absolute horrendous state of filth and disrepair. Neither of the children had felt too pleased stepping through the threshold and away from what would be their last spot of freedom. It is obvious that Mr. Poe upon sight of the home did not whisk the children away to live somewhere else, yet instead, he spoke cheerfully with Count Olaf and even laughed at his weak jokes. “Good bye dear orphans, and remember should you ever need me you can always call me at Mulctuary Money Management. Of course, refrain from calling during banking business hours.” At that Mr. Poe had shut the door and sealed the fate for the poor Baudelaire’s. Immediately, Count Olaf’s whole demeanor had changed.</p>
<p>“Don’t get too comfortable you orphans. I only plan on keeping you here for as long as it takes for me to get the enormous fortune your parents left you.” His eyes glinted with greed just at the mention of the money. Here Klaus made a choice to reflect on what Count Olaf just said, despite his older sister Violet from reaching out to stop him, Klaus found himself stepping forward,</p>
<p>“Well actually, if I interpreted the will my parents left behind correctly, then all of their monetary assets should be left untouched until my sister Violet becomes of age to take charge of the account and consequentially Sunny and myself. Until then any funding required for our care will be supplied by our guardians chosen by our parents. Surely my parents and you were close enough for them to trust us in your care?” Klaus was always a well-versed boy. From the time he could crawl it was said he could read and by the time he reached school age he was reciting 16<sup>th</sup> century poetry to his teachers. It was normal for him to use his knowledge of the literature of his parents’ will to clarify wrongly spoken information. Unknown to any of the children, would be Count Olaf’s reaction. The sharp sound of the slap rang through the previously silent room. Klaus was once standing and now was doubled over clutching the side of his face that took the brute force from Count Olaf’s hand. With Sunny on one hip, Violet propelled herself forward to grab for her brother; she was the eldest and surely, she felt guilty for letting harm come to her younger sibling. Though, Violet was too also a child and it is expected of adults to not hit children. Again, this store is a very unhappy one.</p>
<p>“How could you hit him? He just meant to tell you what he knew?” Violet’s voice sounded foreign even to her, it was much too high and pitchy.</p>
<p>“It’s quite simple, I lifted my hand and then aimed my swing at his face. You’re smart enough to know how a slap works. As for his words, now he knows and you two as well, know not to disobey or talk back to me. Your parents were hopeless excuses and I will not tolerate a fraction of what they did. Now, I will agree that four eyes here, is correct. Your money is all tied up in the ticking age of the oldest Baudelaire. Which happens to be you Violet. I, however, am much smarter than Mr. Poe and should have the money by sunset tomorrow.” Violet helped Klaus straighten up as Count Olaf spoke, her stance slightly in front of him in an effort to shield him from any more abuse. Count Olaf waited for a response but upon hearing none he clapped his hands in triumph and smiled down at the children. “Now, why don’t you three, run up to your room and wait until I call you down.” Klaus opened his mouth to speak but Violet chimed in before he could,</p>
<p>“Excuse me Count Olaf, but would you mind telling us how to get to our rooms?” The Count breathed in deliberately than put on a smile that was so sickly sweet it hurt Violet’s stomach.</p>
<p>“Well since you asked so nicely, of course I can tell you where your room is. Simply go up the stairs to the second floor and it is the last door to the left.” Violet nodded her head in thanks and shuffled her little family around him to ascend the stairs as directed. Near the top his voice cut through the small sounds of their shoes on the worn wood. “Sweet Violet, do come back down here as soon as you direct your siblings to your room.” Often when people ride a roller coaster, they say their stomach drops; the same could be said for Violet’s own stomach at his words.</p>
<p>The wallpaper was peeling, every step of the wood creaked under their feet, and a curious odor seemed to waft in from the air vents; for the state of the house it was still an impressive size with a handful of doors of either side of the long hallway. At the end of the hallway, true to his words the door swung open to reveal a small room with an even smaller bed staged in the center. Aside from a pile of rocks and the bed no other décor or furniture populated the room; not even a light fixture, the only light came from the hallway and the window along the far wall of the room.</p>
<p>“Surely he can’t expect us three to sleep on this single bed? How could we end up here Violet? Did mother and father know the state of this house before sending us to live with him? Not once do I recall either of them mentioning a Count Olaf. I could drum up a list of our parents’ friends who would be much more suitable guardians.” Klaus walked over to the bed and unceremoniously threw himself down onto it. The rusted springs groaned in distress; a cloud of dust flung up into the air as well. Violet had sighed and stepped into the room, switching a now sleeping Sunny from her hip to the bed on her spread-out sweater. Klaus placed his hand protectively on Sunny’s chest, his hand moved to the rhythm of her breathing. “Sunny shouldn’t have to grow up here.” Violet rung her hands in worry, she too had so many questions running through her head but before she could have voiced them, Count Olaf’s voice drifted in through the open door.</p>
<p>“Ohhh Viooletttt.”</p>
<p>“Do you want me to come down with you?” Klaus made the motion to get up but Violet quickly shook her head no and placed a slender hand on his shoulder.</p>
<p>“No, no, you need to stay here with Sunny. I should be back soon.” Violet tried to calm the beating of her heart but each step that brought her closer to the lion’s den brought her closer to fainting. She rounded the corner to go down the stairs and could immediately feel the heat of her skin from his intense gaze. It quite figuratively felt like she might have burst into flames. Now see, the Baudelaire’s were well educated so they made sure to teach their children, besides Sunny who was still learning how to speak in general, the difference between “literally” and “figuratively”. “You wanted to speak with me?” Violet shuffled the last couple of feet closer to him on his seat on the couch.</p>
<p>“Sweet Violet. Please have a seat, the death of your parents must have left you feeling quite exhausted.” It should be common knowledge that repeatedly reminding someone of a tragic loss does not in fact help them. The pang of pain in Violet’s heart all the evidence needed to confirm this. Violet eyed the seat Count Olaf motioned to skeptically; could he really mean for her to sit on the three-legged stool placed just in front of him? As she reached forward to drag to stool closer to her, she almost exclaimed out loud in fear when his hand grasped her wrist. His hand felt feverish against her cool skin, almost to the point she wondered if he could actually burn her just from his touch. “No. Sit here.” His voice commanded no other option, and she feared to disobey him; flashbacks to just moments earlier with Klaus had flooded her memories. Who knows what he could do to her should she disobey? Once she settled down onto the stool he leaned back against the couch and reached for his nearly empty wineglass, offering her a sip.</p>
<p>“No thank you. I can’t drink.” When Violet said she can’t drink, there it meant she was not of the legal age that it is acceptable to drink alcohol. It is true she could have lifted the glass to her lips and managed to swallow the bitter liquid but it would not have been appropriate. The only time she could remember tasting wine came from a small sip she snuck from her mother’s glass at dinner. The taste had made her gag; she swore to herself that she would never drink again.</p>
<p>“Ah yes, that pesky law, along with some others. How old are you sweet Violet?” He sipped some liquid from the glass while maintaining direct eye contact with her.</p>
<p>“I am 15, I turn 16 in four months.” For a second his smooth composure broke, but Violet couldn’t exactly place the expression that ran over his face. All she knew was it sent a shiver down her back.</p>
<p>“I find it funny all of the rules they have put in place to control children. Why, in the old days it was common practice for a beautiful girl such as yourself to be prepping for marriage to a handsome man. It would turn no heads for your father to betroth you to a man twice your age.” Violet’s heart picked up a funny beat again and she feared she would faint or worse become sick. She was not a stupid girl and therefore she feared where his train of thought was going. “Seeing as I am your father now, given your last one is mere ashes now.” He watched for the hurt to flash through her eyes. “It seems to be my responsibility to find you a suitable partner. However, the only man I can vouch for that is incredibly handsome, and an eligible bachelor is myself.” Violet waited patiently for him to continue his speech, but when none came, she was surprised to find that he was expecting her to voice her thoughts.</p>
<p>“Well as flattered as I am, Count Olaf, I do not think it would be proper for you as my guardian-”</p>
<p>“Your father.” She cringed at the word and moved on,</p>
<p>“That it would be proper for you to suggest our matrimony. Perhaps we could just not discuss my hand for marriage, I do not know if I have plans to marry once I am old enough?” Violet knew she spoke the wrong things once she saw the disappointment in his eyes.</p>
<p>“That’s not what I was hoping to hear sweet Violet.” Before her eyes his disappointment was replaced by a truly sinister sneer. “Listen here orphan. Like I said to your brat brother before, I will be getting my hands on your fortune, no matter what I have to do to get it. As your guardian I could easily sign off on your permission to marry at a young age while at the same time taking your hand in marriage myself. This would give me full access to your money so long as we stay happily married, but you don’t want to marry a handsome man like myself so I’ll have to find another way to force your hand.” He pushed himself up off the couch, coming alarmingly close to Violet, she could only imagine he would plan to hit her too. However, he simply moved past her to dramatically walk the length of the room and back. His one long brow furrowed in thought. Violet did not dare speak or even make a noise, perhaps if she waited long enough, he would have forgotten she was even there and she could escape back up to the room with her siblings. “You love your siblings, yes?” Violet wondered if she was to actually respond to this question or if it was rhetorical. His clearing his throat signified he was expecting an answer.</p>
<p>“Yes, yes I do love my siblings. Very much.” Already a cold sweat had fallen down her neck, she did not like where this is going.</p>
<p>“And you would do anything to save them correct?” This certainly is not any question someone wants to hear.</p>
<p>“I would do anything.” The hesitation was clear in her voice. For not the first time that evening a sly and sinister grin slipped into place on Count Olaf’s thin lips. This was exactly what he had wanted to hear, and it meant he could start to form his new plan. It wouldn’t be long till he would have everything he wanted; and he might get a cute brown-haired bonus with his cash.</p>
<p>“You may be excused sweet Violet. I look forward to chatting with you again.” Violet stood stiffly, making her way slowly towards the stairs that he was conveniently blocking. She waited back, in hopes he would simply move his arm; of course, nothing would ever be simple with Count Olaf. “Do you have no manners sweet Violet? I’m sure you know how to say, ‘excuse me dad’. Try it Violet.” Her heart figuratively felt like it might have beaten out of her chest. It reminded her of those silly cartoons she would watch on a Saturday morning; the character’s heart beating so hard they left an imprint.</p>
<p>“Excuse me, please.” His arm dropped to let her by. She should have known that was not the end though, for he grabbed her forcefully by the arm as she passed by. His grip was like iron and a deep ache spread up her arm from the sheer force.</p>
<p>“Excuse me...” He drawled on, waiting for her utter humiliation and pain to finish its course.</p>
<p>“Excuse me Count Olaf.” Suddenly his hand lost its grip, leaving her free to continue her trek back up the stairs to her siblings. Violet didn’t register what was happening next until too late, as Count Olaf came up behind her and promptly shoved her hard enough to lose her footing on the steps. She crashed down onto her hands and knees, both igniting in pain from the har landing. While Count Olaf took pleasure in seeing her on her hands and knees, especially from that angle, he had to make sure his message was clear. One swift pull of her ankle knocked her off balance and resulted in a sickening smack of her face on the step.</p>
<p>Once when Violet was a young girl, she had a dream that if she were to invent a flying machine, she could jump from her tree house without fear. The dream was so vivid, little Violet set out the next morning to invent this flying machine and proceeded to jump out from her tree house. Now one must realize that since there are no miraculous flying machine’s around today to prove that she was successful in her invention, it could be inferred that Violet fell down to the ground, hard. That was the day she lost her front tooth and spoke with a slight lisp until her adult tooth grew into its’ place. Now as Violet’s face struck the wooden step, she feared that her tooth might have been chipped, worse yet she feared she might have broken more than one tooth or even her jaw. No doubt in her mind that eating and talking would be excruciating in the weeks to come.</p>
<p>“A father would be more forgiving in the future. I told you I will not tolerate any disrespect my sweet Violet.” Her knees cried out in protest as she quickly scooped herself up from the stairs to retreat within the mock safety of her room. There truly was no safe place so long as her and her siblings were underneath that roof; or within a hundred miles of Count Olaf for that matter. As soon as that thought had slipped through the inner workings of her mind a plan started to unfold before her. Violet knew that she would do anything to protect her siblings.</p>
  </div></div>
<a name="section0002"><h2>2. Chapter 2</h2></a>
<div class="story"><div class="userstuff module">
    
    <p>Klaus had made a huge fuss over Violet’s swollen lip that continued to grow before their eyes. She did a good job to hide the bruises that were beginning to form on her knees and elbows. While she spoke soothing words to a very upset Klaus and cradled a sleeping Sunny to her chest the inner gears of her mind were working full speed. Just how would she be able to get her siblings and herself out from Count Olaf’s grasp?</p>
<p>It’s unfortunate to know that any future for the Baudelaire’s would never end with a happy ever after. Oh, how it would be nice to go back and change that fateful day for Mr. and Mrs. Baudelaire. However, at the time this story is written, a time machine has yet to be invented. It does beg the question, should someone have already figured out time travel in the future could they not have already gone back to change the past? That is a discussion to be held at a later date with those of a much higher intellect.</p>
<p>Count Olaf never called on another of the siblings for the rest of the evening. The three young Baudelaire’s spent their first night under Olaf’s roof hungry, scared, and most of all lonely. Each of them longed to feel the gentle hand of their mother as she ran her hand through their hair; how soft her kisses were on their foreheads before they went to sleep. Their bodies felt exposed and raw without the comforting pressure from a long embrace with their father. How intoxicating his voice was when he would read a story out loud; painting the words into a movie within their imaginations. Words truly can never explain the sorrow that would last in the children’s hearts for many years to come. The death of a parent leaves a scar on life that can never return back to the way it was.</p>
<p>It was a joke among the Baudelaire household that Sunny was an early riser, hence why she was named after the large ball of gas. In truth she was truly just like any normal infant that didn’t have quite a fully developed circadian rhythm like that of her grown family members. That first morning in their new home for the Baudelaire’s however, did not start with Sunny waking up her older siblings; instead, it began with Count Olaf barging into their room before the sun had risen. He held a comically long list of chores and theatrically sprang it out from it’s rolled-up state, “Time to wake up orphans. I have quite the list of chores for you to get done today before my theater troupe comes for a celebratory party this evening. I suggest you get a jump on it now, who knows what might happen should you not finish in time.” The sinister glint in his eye was enough motivation for Violet to spring up from the small bed and rush forward to take the list from him. Violet was quite determined to make sure no further harm would ever come to her siblings and if that meant she would take the brute force of it, then so be it. “Should you need me for any reason, don’t. I will be terribly busy all day and cannot be bothered by some sniveling, rich brats who have never done a chore in their life. Some manual labor could do you some good.” Count Olaf made to turn away from the cramped room but stopped himself to turn back and face the eldest Baudelaire. “Have a nice day, my sweet Violet.” His hand brushed Violet’s long brown hair back behind her shoulder; his fingers ever so slightly tracing along the soft pale flesh of her exposed shoulder.</p>
<p>He wouldn’t admit it to her then but Count Olaf thoroughly enjoyed the sight of her pearl pink night gown that seemed to be a size or two, too big that it would drape itself off one shoulder because of the too big neckline. Unknown to him, this night gown he admired so much came from the wife of Mr. Poe, who no longer could fit in it. Other than the clothes they wore on their backs on the day of their parent’s passing, neither of the children had any other article of clothing. Violet’s skin prickled at his touch and her stomach churned in upset; she felt so exposed in that single moment he touched her and wished for nothing more than to flee from it but yet another part of her, the lonely part, almost yearned for the soft caress. How long it already felt since she was regarded with warm physical affection that wasn’t her own attempts to cheer up her younger siblings. Not a full thirty seconds passed during Violet and Count Olaf’s little interaction did he promptly turn back around to exit out of the room.</p>
<p>Violet turned back to her siblings, Sunny had started to cry at being woken up so harshly but thankfully a very tired looking Klaus had managed to lull her back to sleep before it could have disturbed Olaf and incurred his wrath. Her heart sank at the sight of her younger brother barely holding his eyes open, the deep purple marks under his eyes every indication of consecutive nights of poor sleep adding up. Their even younger sister sleeping with what seemed to be a permanent furrow between her eyes, like she was forever stuck in a horrid nightmare. Not that their present life was much better. Violet knew in that moment she could never expect them to get up and help her this early. Although her own body felt weighted down with her own exhaustion, not to mention her abused joints and jaw that reminded her just how terrible of a situation her siblings and herself were in; those were reminders enough to force her to change into the only spare change of clothes she had.</p>
<p>Violet wasn’t particularly a picky girl when it came to shopping; she had had plenty of modest dresses that her mother would sew in their own pockets. Mrs. Baudelaire knew how much her eldest daughter loved to carry around various little trinkets that should could tinker with when her hands felt idle. All Violet had now in a way of clothing was the light pink dress and blue sweater she wore that day at the beach, the old night gown of Mrs. Poe, and the dress she slipped over her head then. Much like the night gown, this dress was much too big on Violet’s still developing frame. Violet would never have wanted to sound ungrateful but in her mind, she also thought it was quite a nauseating color; why someone would decide to make a dress out of a shade of green that has remarkable similarity to puke would forever be above her.</p>
<p>After tying a knot into the laces of her shoes, Violet stood back up and glanced at her siblings once more. Klaus had fallen back asleep without much more convincing than Violet simply pushing him to lie down on the bed. Now he cradled Sunny into his chest, both taking slow deliberate breaths. When she took in the state of the room and remembered everything that was going on it felt like a wave crashing over her. Her lungs struggled to catch a breath of air and she felt the overwhelming urge to break down in tears. How could she let her siblings get stuck here? She had promised her parents that morning, that she would take care of them. <em>She promised them. </em>Look where they were now, and Violet couldn’t help but feel like a failure and liar in her parents’ eyes. All the more it reiterated in her mind that she would have to do anything to protect Klaus and Sunny; but what could she do without any real money or the capabilities to get a job? The beginning signs of dawn startled Violet from her momentary break down and got her back on track.</p>
<p>“Just like dad used to say, the best way to tackle a list is to start from the top.” She quietly murmured to herself as she carefully began to examine the list of chores scripted out in quite lovely handwriting. There was no doubt in Violet’s mind that this couldn’t be Count Olaf’s handwriting. It appeared that the first thing on her list was to start dusting every nook and cranny of the house, but really her true first task was to find what cleaning products were available for her use. Upon a quick scavenger hunt throughout the sprawling house, Violet found a rather dirty closet filled to the brim with cleaning products. An oxymoron if she had ever seen one. As Violet began to work her way down the obnoxiously long list she became further acquainted with the house. She kept a running tally of rooms, bathrooms, closets, and other structures she encountered. It couldn’t be helped that her mind would continually think about how she could have fixed up the miscellaneous broken things she saw, or think about how she could decorate to make the place feel like a home. Violet had to routinely remind herself that this would not be their home, and more so she would need to continue working on their plans of escape.</p>
<p>At that moment Violet had thought through countless plans and every time she came to the same conclusion that she herself held no real money and could not possibly manage the care of her siblings properly. Even as repulsive as it was to live under Count Olaf, the three of them at least had a roof over their head and didn’t have to face the dangers of living on the street. If only Violet had known that the dangers of living on the street were far less than the dangers of living with Count Olaf. So far, the only plan that seemed feasible at best was to find a way for Mr. Poe or Justice Strauss to witness the abuse Violet and her siblings were encountering. Then they could have been whisked away to someplace with loving guardians that didn’t threaten to steal their entire inheritance.</p>
<p>Slowly but surely Violet continued to work through that long list of chores as the sun continued to rise and stream in through the numerous, dirty windows of the house. In her entire time of cleaning she never crossed paths with Olaf, she didn’t see anyone until she had managed her way to cleaning the kitchen and the familiar baby sounds from her infant sister greeted her. “How long have you been up Violet?” She turned to face her brother, wiping the sweat from her brow as she did so.</p>
<p>“Since Count Olaf came in this morning and woke us up.” A cloud of confusion settled on his face; Klaus had been in fact so tired that he had no recollection of being woken up earlier that morning. Quickly followed by his feeling of confusion was guilt at the sight of his sister. Her hands slightly red from cleaning with chemicals all morning, her nails caked with dirt, and her face covered by a layer of sweat and exhaustion.  Violet’s eyes very much resemble Klaus’ from this morning; deep purple markings adorning the skin under her eyes.</p>
<p>“How much have you done already this morning?” Violet shrugged her frail shoulders and glanced at the list on the opposite counter.</p>
<p>“I imagine I have made it through half of the list.”</p>
<p>“I’m sorry Violet.” Her heart nearly broke at the sadness on his face. Was it not her duty as the eldest to do whatever she had to, to protect her younger siblings from this abuse?</p>
<p>“Please Klaus, do not apologize or feel bad. I couldn’t bear to make you and Sunny get up so early this morning. Plus, this time alone has really given me the chance to be deep in thought about ways to get us out of here.” Klaus’ eyes lit up at the mention of escaping from Olaf’s clutches. Already Violet had begun to discuss the plans she had developed that morning. It’s truly unfortunate to say that just beyond the door to the kitchen stood Count Olaf, listening intently to every word pouring out from between Violet’s lips. He knew that the children must have been miserable since the loss of their parents; in truth he knew exactly how they were feeling since Count Olaf himself tragically lost his own parents to some poison darts. A normal person would feel empathy to someone who suffered a loss similar to their own, like Count Olaf towards the three orphans under his care, however under no circumstances was Count Olaf normal or empathetic.</p>
<p>When he heard of the tragic fire that took the life of a couple, he knew from many years pass, Count Olaf knew that this was his golden opportunity. If he couldn’t exact his revenge on those in the grave then surely the debt could be settled with Mr. and Mrs. Baudelaire’s children. It was much too easy for him to convince the banker, Mr. Poe, to hand over the custody of the children to himself. The only pesky part of his plan was the unaccounted fact that the fortune could not be accessed until Violet reached adulthood.</p>
<p>Violet; she had an uncanny resemblance to her mother that made it all too easy for Olaf to forget she was in fact not Beatrice. Even now as Count Olaf listened through the kitchen door, Violet’s voice sounded just like her mother’s had the last time he heard it, maybe just a tad younger. So far, from what he had heard, Count Olaf had to give the inventive Baudelaire some credit. Violet had thought up quite a few new plans of escape despite her previously thinking the only hope was to have Mr. Poe and Justice Strauss see what was happening. Of course, Count Olaf would have to use this information against them, no matter how impressive the inventions she spoke so passionately about were, he could never pass up the opportunity to have financial security.</p>
<p>As much as it helped him to thwart any of their plans by eavesdropping, Count Olaf himself was running blanks on ideas of how to get their fortune and this got the gears in his head started. All morning he had been scheming up in his tower room but he continually reached the same dead end. The wording of the will left behind by the orphans’ late parents could not be interpreted any other way and gave little wiggle room for him to work with. Even if he managed to kill the little brats that would still leave him with nothing; no money or the sweet revenge he longed for. No, killing or disposing of the three would never be an option. Plus, he now had to consider the very likely possibility that any further abuse could have been documented should a competent adult on the outside see what was happening. It was risky for him to trip Violet like he had and hit Klaus as well. This was going to have to become a game of manipulation rather than brute force.</p>
<p>That struck something within Count Olaf’s mind, one could say that a figurative light bulb went off in his head. Shortly after he had found out that just by being appointed the guardian of the three children would not give him access to the money, Count Olaf had the brilliant idea of marrying Violet to get the money. It was just the night before that he had been speaking with Violet and saw her reaction when he proposed the idea. Her obvious disgust at the idea had nearly made him forget about it because it would be significantly less viable to attempt to force her hand in marriage, but if this was going to become a game of manipulation then surely, he could figure out a way to make the marriage proposition come from the eldest Baudelaire. She had said that she would do anything to protect the two younger brats, and he was willing to barter a deal with Violet.</p>
<p>The rest of the days passed by uneventfully for both the children and Count Olaf. After he had listened to Violet speak with Klaus and Sunny and then spend some time scheming himself, he lock himself away in his tower room to begin forming his fool proof plan. Just three floors below Violet, Klaus, and Sunny continued to work their way through the list of chores. Their time spent together cleaning helped them make it through each task much quicker. It is a given to mention that while Klaus and Sunny both came to help, there truly wasn’t much Sunny could have been expected to help with. With the majority of the afternoon gone the three siblings finally made it to the bottom of the list. “What should we do now that we are done?” Klaus skimmed through the list one more time, to ensure they had in fact done everything asked of them.</p>
<p>“I figure the next step is to let Count Olaf know that we finished. However, I will admit the thought of having to speak with him doesn’t give me much joy.” A chill ran down Violet’s spine from just thinking about it. Klaus looked at Violet, his face held the same sentiment that Violet’s did.</p>
<p>“I can always go tell him. You deserve a break after working so hard from this morning. Why don’t you go take Sunny up to the room and I go off to find Olaf?” Immediately Violet began to disagree with this plan but Klaus snatched the list up from the counter before she could grab it. His mind was made up and he would not be swayed by Violet’s opposing words. As much as Violet felt responsibility for being the eldest of the three, Klaus felt a responsibility to protect his two sisters as well. He had a bad feeling in his stomach anytime he thought of Violet being alone with Count Olaf. Klaus was a remarkably intuitive boy for his young age of 12 years. “I mean it Violet. Take Sunny and go upstairs. I’m going to go look in the study beside the ballroom. I thought I smelled the stench of alcohol that seems to follow him wafting in from there.” Warning bells continually went off in Violet’s head while she reluctantly picked up her infant sister from the counter. Her mind was so preoccupied with worrying about Klaus talking with Count Olaf that she almost walked straight into Olaf himeself.</p>
<p>“You should watch where you are going, sweet Violet.” His long fingers gripped into Violet’s shoulder from where he had stopped her from running into him. “Where are you two running off to? Also, where is your little four eyed brother?” His single unibrow furrowed with curiosity.</p>
<p>“We finished with your list and Klaus went to go find you to tell you that we were done. I was just going to take Sunny to lay down for her nap.” As if she had received her cue in a play, Sunny exaggerated her yawn and rubbed at her eyes with her tiny fists. It might have been better if Sunny had remained with her face buried into Violet’s neck however, because all her movement did was draw Count Olaf’s attention onto her.</p>
<p>“Ah the little shark tooth baby is tired, is she?” It’s true that Sunny did in fact have four very sharp teeth. “May I?” He had reached out his arms to take Sunny from Violet’s. The result was Violet tightening her grip on her sister.</p>
<p>“I think she is really tired; I wouldn’t want her to get cranky and disturb you by crying. I really should go to put her down.” Count Olaf smiled in his sinister way and emphasized his want to hold her again.</p>
<p>“If I’m being honest, that wasn’t a question Violet. I would like to hold my daughter. It is my right as her father, right?” In this moment Violet felt so many emotions it was hard for her to pinpoint which was the strongest. What had her siblings done to deserve a life as terrible at this one was unfolding to be. Every ounce of Violet’s soul screamed in protest when she let him reach forward and remove Sunny from her arms. The picture of Sunny being cradled in Count Olaf’s arms looked a lot like a little lamb resting in the shadow of a hunting lion. Disaster waiting to happen. “Your older sister is far too overprotective. I mean I was entrusted with your care and wellbeing wasn’t I Sunny?” He leaned his head down so that his lips nearly touched Sunny’s ears, but his eyes remained locked with Violet’s frozen ones. “If you think about it, I will be more like your father than Bertrand ever will be. Children are so impressionable at this young an age. Can you say dada Sunny?”</p>
<p>Sunny was in fact, at the age that she had already spoke her first word and could have pointed out who her “mama” and “dada” were respectively. Unfortunately, in every way Count Olaf was right in his assessment. Sunny was still much too young to ever have her own memories of her parents and it would have been much too easy for Count Olaf to be associated as her father in Sunny’s still developing mind. Violet’s heart broke to realize, herself, that he was right. If she didn’t find a way to get Sunny out of here, there was no doubt in her mind that Count Olaf would assert himself as Sunny’s father and effectively cut out their real father from Sunny’s feelings permanently.</p>
<p>Violet wasn’t necessarily an open book when it came to her thoughts and feelings but she couldn’t hide from Count Olaf the obvious discomfort and pain that settled in her eyes. Soon enough, he had estimated, Violet would come to think of the same plan to save her siblings that Count Olaf had thought of to steal their fortune and steal Violet. He would just have to be patient and wait for the deal to be brokered.    </p>
  </div><div class="fff_chapter_notes fff_foot_notes"><b>Notes for the Chapter:</b><blockquote class="userstuff">
          <p>Sorry it took me a second to get the second chapter posted. As always if you feel so inclined I would love to hear any feedback you may have!</p>
        </blockquote></div></div>
<a name="section0003"><h2>3. Chapter 3</h2></a>
<div class="story"><div class="userstuff module">
    
    <p>Downstairs, Klaus was completely oblivious to the scene unfolding just above him. He had taken his time walking from the kitchen to the study; his stomach feeling like an unseen hand was griping it tight. Obviously, that was really a symptom of anxiety for his pending conversation with Count Olaf. That would be his first interaction with Count Olaf alone and since having been hit in the face just the day prior. Despite his fear of Olaf, he was fighting the feelings of guilt that would creep into the back of his thoughts, how there was nothing he could do to change that mornings events. The image of a dirty Violet that was beyond exhaustion bent over scrubbing the never-ending dirt in the kitchen was something he did not think he could forget.  The only thing Klaus could do was to be a better brother for the next time, just like he was doing now.</p><p>Klaus would never find out about the conversation between Violet and Count Olaf because as soon as Olaf returned Sunny to Violet she had fled to their room and Count Olaf proceeded his way to the study in pursuit of Klaus. Neither of them had intentions to speak of it. Klaus simply would go on forever thinking he at least spared his sisters one uncomfortable experience with the heinous actor. In hind sight Klaus got off easy, but maybe it’s better for his mental health and esteem that he hadn’t known. Much to Klaus’ surprise, after swinging open the door to the study, he found that the far wall of the room had built in shelves that were full of books. Since Violet had cleaned this room before Klaus and Sunny woke up, he hadn’t the chance to explore like she did. Upon further inspection he noticed that almost all of the books were in a grievous state, a tell-tale sign of neglect. That was not a surprise. As Klaus had just removed the first book to investigate what contents were inside, someone cleared their throat from the doorway.</p><p>“I see you found my collection of books. Though I do not see where it says that grimy little orphan hands have permission to touch them.” Count Olaf added infliction to his wording, an easy way of demanding that Klaus put the book back without having to say so. To say it again, Klaus was a very intellectual boy therefore he immediately returned the book to its proper space. “Why, again, are you in my study?” For the record he had never asked Klaus why he was in there, but by then Klaus knew better than to correct him on this.</p><p>“I was coming to find you to inform you that my sisters and I have finished the list of chores.” Klaus offered the rolled-up list to Count Olaf, he assumed that Olaf would not have remembered everything, or really anything in the list and would want to check it himself. Odd enough Count Olaf did not take the list from Klaus but instead moved further into the room to sit in the large armchair.</p><p>“There is one thing left on the list that you three are to do. Don’t even bother checking because I did not write it on there but you three are to prepare a magnificent feast for me and my theater troupe in which you will serve us and clean up after.”</p><p>“How can you expect us to prepare a large dinner under such a short amount of time and with such little ingredients?” Klaus attempted to control the tone of his voice but not well enough to fool Count Olaf. The look that Count Olaf gave him made Klaus feel weak in the knees; it was the same look right before Olaf had hit him yesterday, only Klaus didn’t know that Olaf had resorted to no more physical force.</p><p>“Oh, how hard it must be without your cooks and maids and servants to cater to your every wish? That is your problem, not mine. I’m positive that three intitled orphans such as yourselves should be able to work it out. Let it humble you three since having dead parents doesn’t seem to be doing the trick. Now get out of my study and shut the damn door behind you.” Yes, it is true that the Baudelaires were a well-off family but they rarely hired someone to work for them. There was the occasional party that Mr. and Mrs. Baudelaire would hire servers so that they themselves could enjoy the festivities. There was also that single time Mr. Baudelaire had hired a gardener but really it was a ploy to donate money to a struggling neighbor without embarrassing them. They never even had a babysitter growing up and the children were well resourced, but alas they still did not have experience preparing a large meal that they would have to cater.</p><p>Once he left the study, Klaus felt positively horrible as he made his way up the stairs and to their shared room. It would not be a joy of his to be the bearer of bad news to his overworked sister. Meanwhile, Violet watched over Sunny as she slept and racked her brain for what options she had to get them out from under Count Olaf. She couldn’t bear to think about what another three years living with him would be like and even still Violet was worried to think about becoming the guardians of her two younger siblings. Sunny was just a baby still and Violet wasn’t quite sure on how she would be expected to deal with enrolling Sunny in school and managing its strict schedule right after becoming an adult. By then she would have the funds from their inheritance to keep them afloat but in more ways than one it felt like Violet’s childhood was slipping through her fingers one day at a time. It is easy to understand why Klaus dreaded sharing his bad news because it is quite saddening to say that she was correct.</p><p>“Count Olaf is a treacherous and terrible man.” Klaus spoke it whereas Violet was thinking it. Violet looked up to her younger brother as he entered the room. “He is expecting us to make dinner for him and his theater troupe for tonight.” She was concerned with how they were to carry out Count Olaf’s demand, but it was increasingly upsetting for Violet to see how distraught her brother looked in that moment.</p><p>“Don’t fret, Klaus. I’m sure we can figure something out. It’s just like mom and dad used to say, ‘a problem is best solved by taking it one step at a time’. Our step one is to see what ingredients we have available for use.” As much as Violet had hoped it would inspire some hope within her brother, she could tell how much it hurt him to think of their mother and father, just as it had hurt for her. Not many people can truly understand what it is like to lose a loved one, until they do. Some days thinking of them brings so much joy whereas other days it feels like one will never be happy again. “Should we leave Sunny to sleep here? I would hate to wake her up but I worry about leaving her alone.” Violet was scared to think what would happen if Count Olaf were to walk into the room and see an unattended sleeping Sunny.</p><p>“I would feel much more comfortable if we would stay together. Perhaps we can fashion a portable cradle of some sort? I’ve done some reading before about basic construction and with your mechanical aptitude we should be able to do it.” Violet praised Klaus for his smart thinking and had begun to already scan their surroundings for viable materials. Both siblings came up empty-handed, until Klaus yet again remembered something he read in a book, “If I can recall it correctly, I read in a book somewhere about different cultures around the world that use long pieces of fabric to tie small children onto the mother’s backs so their hands can remain free. There must be some fabric somewhere that can fulfill our needs so we can put Sunny onto your back like the mothers do.” While Klaus did not intend to refer to Violet as being Sunny’s mother his words none the less conjured up that image in their minds.</p><p>Truthfully in many ways Violet felt like a surrogate mother to her younger siblings, more so to Sunny than Klaus and as she worried that Count Olaf would take the place of their dad, Violet too worried that she might have taken the place of their mother. Preventing Sunny from becoming confused with her parentage was no easy task, what with the fact that Violet looked like an exact copy of their mother when she was younger; a fact which pleased Count Olaf very much. Neither Klaus nor Violet made any moves as they both sat deep in their thought but then Sunny made a cute little noise, as most babies do, in her sleep, which broke their trance. “I saw some curtains in a spare room that we could utilize. They should be plenty long enough for our purpose.” Klaus nodded in agreement to Violet’s statement and followed his older sister as she led him down the hall to one of the many rooms. Once they had secured the curtains and made sure to properly remove any dust, Klaus helped hold a sleeping Sunny to Violet’s back while she tied the curtain around her body to hold Sunny tight.</p><p>Now that they had their first problem solved it was time for the trio of siblings to head down to the kitchen and investigate what kind of food was available to them. It’s safe to assume with the state in which Count Olaf kept his home, that he was not an avid grocery shopper nor kept a well-stocked kitchen, fit for any last-minute catering needs. Had it not been for Violet and Klaus’ cleaning earlier, it would have been damn near impossible for any cooking to be done at all. What money Count Olaf didn’t spend on alcohol, he spent it on eating out with his theater troupe. Not even he could say affirmatively when a proper meal was cooked in that kitchen.</p><p>Somewhere within the city that the Baudelaire family and Count Olaf used to live there was a street overgrown with trees so thick that you could barely see a thing. It was on that street that the city’s sixth most important financial advisor lived, who would find out that pasta puttanesca was suddenly in and demand that everyone of importance eat the Italian dish at once. When the Baudelaire children set out to make this very dish that same night it was not because they read in The Daily Punctilio how it was the new trend. Rather they made it because with some slight mechanical tinkering from Violet and Klaus’ diligent memory the duo were able to fix up an old pasta maker and discover that Count Olaf had just the right ingredients for pasta puttanesca. For just a moment, a very short and fleeting moment, Klaus and Violet felt happy in their surroundings. There was an air of familiarity at getting to work together to solve a problem. Of course, any happiness that graced the Baudelaires would ultimately be stolen away. It does give pleasure to inform a reader, that this small slice of normality bestowed upon the children would last for just a tad longer.</p><p>Count Olaf, on the other hand, was not having such a grand time. Granted any misery every incurred upon the wretched man was all in due diligence. If there was ever someone in the world who was more deserving of a bad day, it was Count Olaf. Upon finishing his demands of the boy brat, Count Olaf had promptly snuck out the front door to rein in his henchmen from their favorite drinking spot. It was a mystery to him why he even bothered to have henchmen if they never served any of his needs or commands. All they did was drink and sing extraordinarily bad. Oh, but where could they have learned such nauseating habits? (Please make sure to add the dripping sarcasm in the previous sentence) When someone calls themselves a leader of a group, most understand and intend for their subject to mirror the actions and behaviors of their leader, hence why Count Olaf’s henchmen were lazy and drunk. Needless to say, that was exactly how he found them. They all were well into their bottles and wanted nothing more than to continue on drinking. Not even Count Olaf’s offer of scheming to steal the Baudelaire fortune could entice them. If only he had known that a much bigger pain in his ass was making her way to him on daggered stilettos.</p><p>Esme Squalor was the city’s sixth most important financial advisor, which sounds as least impressive as it actually is. She had always been known to have a peculiar sense of fashion and was really quite a two-sided bitch. One could grant her the mercy though, not that she deserved it, because she had the personality of garden vegetable and was a mindless follow to what was ‘in’ and what was ‘out’. This would be the reason for Count Olaf’s approaching ocular migraine. That is the quasi-medical term for the intense pain that danced behind his eyes upon sight of Esme. “Well look who it is! It must be my lucky day, to run into the oh-so handsome Count Olaf.” She had run her hands up the outside of his arms and pulled him into a far too intimate hug. Esme always enjoyed looking at Jerome’s expression when she outright flirted with other men. Truly she only married him as a means to toy with his emotions.  Later that night when Esme would return home much later than was socially acceptable, she would melt him like putty back into her long claws; all it took was a kiss and an ‘I love you’.</p><p>“Fancy running into you here, Esme. What brings you to this side of the city?” And into my life again? Count Olaf silently wondered to himself. Once upon a time Count Olaf and Esme hit it off; it was lust at first sight and no one could account for their whereabouts for upwards of three months. Not that anyone would really rather care to know what they were doing and where they were, no doubt despair followed in a waking path.</p><p>“Really Olaf have you not heard? I told you to start following what was in and what was out. Aqueous martinis are in right now, and where else to get a martini than from a bar?” She swept her arms around in a grandiose show of the dingy bar they were in. For two reasons Count Olaf was immediately alerted to her ulterior motive. As an adult of legal drinking age that is well versed with his mixed drinks, Olaf knew that an aqueous martini was misnomer. Meaning, while it is called a martini it is in fact a drink that there, lacks any alcohol. Esme had no reason to travel all the way to his side of the city for someone to pour water in a glass with two cocktail olives on a stick. Then there was the particular situation that Count Olaf found himself in those days; he had no doubt in his mind that Esme was not oblivious to the fact that he was in possession of the three Baudelaire orphans. She wanted the money or the orphans, he could never be exactly sure with her.</p><p>“If you’d pardon me, I was not aware of this new trendy drink. Recently I have had my hands quite full.” Her eyes lit up in anticipation for him to drop the news of the children. Count Olaf was everyway right in his suspicion that Esme had an entirely different agenda for running into him that day. One did not simply become the city’s sixth most important financial advisor if they did not keep tract of those about to inherit large sums of money that would then require advice. Don’t be fooled though, her advice consisted of spending copious amounts of money in way of fine gifts and all-inclusive holiday resorts, all for herself. “A bourbon, neat.” He flagged down one of the bartenders, knowing he was going to need some alcohol himself if he was to survive that evening and truth be told if Esme was going to survive that evening also.</p><p>“Care to share what has you so worked? Perhaps it’s something I could be of use for; I hate to think of you handling whatever it is on your own.” While she had been prying for more information, Count Olaf removed himself from her embrace to sit beside what he would have considered his favorite henchman, the hook handed man. Unfortunately, Esme wasn’t that easy to push off, she simply followed him and very brazenly sat herself right on his lap. She expertly wiggled her ass in hopes to get him riled up. From previous experience she knew he had a one-track mind if the circumstances were right, that would be far too easy to manipulate out any information she wished for. What Esme hadn’t known was all Count Olaf could think of during her attempts of seduction, was Violet. How long would she take to break before he could have her and the fortune?</p><p>“It’s nothing a busy, married woman such as yourself should worry about. Though if you don’t mind, I am not fond of whatever new trendy perfume you are wearing, and would appreciate if you could sit in your own seat.” Jerome of course was pleased at the acknowledgement of the vows Esme swore with him at the altar and Esme was all but ready to fall of the edge into a rage at the insult. Her mind was racing through the possibilities of why her charm wasn’t working.</p><p>“I don’t see why me being married is such a big deal now. It didn’t seem to bother you then.” Finally, she had moved to her own seat across the table, but this aided to her plan. Maybe he needed a little reminder of just how much fun they could have together; her heeled foot ran up the inside of his leg. Count Olaf was cursing himself in his head, he knew Esme was an unstoppable force that once obsessed with something couldn’t let it go. However, it was then that a stroke of genius or luck -one would be more apt to believe it a non-deserving luck- that Count Olaf knew exactly what he needed to say and how he was going to secure the demise of the Baudelaires.   </p>
  </div><div class="fff_chapter_notes fff_foot_notes"><b>Notes for the Chapter:</b><blockquote class="userstuff">
          <p>This took longer than I liked but I was suffering terrible writers block. I fear that I am starting to lose the essence of the original series' writing style but I'll try my best to stay consistent. </p><p>On an important note this story will continue to devolve from the original plot and become increasingly more, for lack of a better word, explicit. As this new side to the story develops I will make sure to update the tags accordingly so there isn't too much of a shock factor.  </p><p>Should you feel persuaded leave some comments, they make my day better when I read them.</p>
        </blockquote></div></div>
<a name="section0004"><h2>4. Chapter 4</h2></a>
<div class="story"><div class="userstuff module">
    
    <p>Violet, Klaus, and Sunny needed no announcement when Count Olaf and his troupe returned, because once he crashed through that front door, chaos erupted. His henchmen had picked up a tune from an obscure play; the cacophony of their singing seeped into the previously silent space. Count Olaf and Esme were within each other’s arms, both heavily intoxicated, sharing nefarious schemes of a secret nature. What was once a peaceful atmosphere created by the three siblings as they cooked and enjoyed each other’s company, quickly took a turn south. Count Olaf was not intoxicated enough to forget the fine dinner he promised himself and once he ordered the three children to bring out said dinner, his henchmen also took up the demand. Violet grabbed a now awake Sunny, placing her younger sister on one hip and the large bowl of pasta on the other. Klaus made for the sauce, his face showing everything he was feeling. It truly is a shame that Count Olaf had even come home that night; for the first time since their parents had passed away the three siblings had felt a sense of normality standing in the worn-down kitchen, cooking together. For just a fleeting second, they each had taken a moment to imagine it was their parents on their way home in place of Count Olaf. That the meal they were preparing was to be a surprise to Mr. and Mrs. Baudelaire.</p><p>“Oh orphans, I have intentions to eat my dinner while it is hot. Move faster dammit.” His words slurred together just enough to let Violet and Klaus know that he was drunk.</p><p>“We just have to serve the food and then we can come back in here and eat. Let’s do this Klaus, together.” Violet set down the noodles to press a reassuring hand onto her brother’s forearm. Hoping she could give him some courage, even though she herself was severely lacking.</p><p>“We can do anything together.” For just a second the smile on Violet’s lips actually reached her eyes. Klaus had never been more right; so long as they were together everything would be okay. At least that’s what the siblings would like to think, their future however, would tell a very different story. Klaus, Violet, and Sunny made their way around the cluttered dining room; this was their first chance to have a good look at the unsightly group of people that Count Olaf deemed his theater troupe. Perhaps if Count Olaf had not had such a dismal life, he might have actually made a fine actor and an even better person. How different this story would have played out had that been the case.</p><p> At the far end of the table from where Count Olaf sat was a pair of two women, nearly identical in their looks with shockingly pale white skin; this was where things started to go wrong. Violet was a slim enough girl that she could have easily slipped between the two women and serve them their pasta but what with having Sunny on one of her hips, it made the chore that much more difficult. She placed the bowl of pasta on the table and had begun to serve a portion onto the first white faced woman’s plate when Count Olaf cleared his throat. All talking ceased at once; someone had to hand it to the drunk group of heathens because they could be an obedient bunch when needed.</p><p>“No, no, no sweet Violet. Is that anyway to serve someone at a dinner party? It is not proper etiquette to have an infant on one’s hip. Bring Sunny to me and I shall hold her for you.” Violet’s heart sank at the thought of handing Sunny over to him yet again, especially with him as intoxicated as he was. But Violet knew that if her and her siblings were to make it out from this dinner party unscathed then it was in their best interest to listen to him. Klaus felt very different from this because the moment Violet moved towards him, his hand shot out and grabbed Violet’s arm. The look passed between them was a conversation that didn’t need to be spoken. Klaus pleading with Violet, almost boarding on commanding, that she not hand Sunny over to Olaf. Seeing as Klaus didn’t know nor would he ever about the previous tangle between Violet and Count Olaf over Sunny; a distinct look of betrayal clouded his face when Violet shook her arm free and proceeded up to Olaf’s place at the head of the table. Violet’s eyes had asked that Klaus just trust her; sadly, the damage was done the moment Klaus watched Count Olaf pull Sunny away from Violet.</p><p>“Why are you just standing there? Get back to serving orphan; I’m practically wasting away here in my seat!” Esme leaned back in her chair as is she was faint from the lack of food. Her eyes shot daggers at the orphans though; how could she have not been smart enough to think about taking custody of them for their money. Of course, Esme’s anger wasn’t in due justice because it surely wasn’t the fault of the children that she hadn’t schemed like Count Olaf to steal their fortune. While everyone had their heads turned to Esme’s outbreak, it was unseen the quick look of despise that ran across Count Olaf’s eyes when he saw how she had addressed his Violet. It truly is a juxtaposition to how his feelings were developing for the eldest Baudelaire. On one hand he couldn’t wait to extract his revenge on her as a surrogate for her damn mother, he enjoyed watching her flinch away from his lude comments and hurtful remarks about her dead parents. Then there was this new turn of events, where he suddenly felt irate with Esme for speaking to Violet in such a way, that abuse was his only to give. “You must be dumber than a bag of rocks since you’re still standing there. Count Olaf darling, can you do something about these lazy children. I’m positively famished.”</p><p>Without breaking eye contact with Esme, Count Olaf waved his hand at Violet, “Violet, go serve the food. It’s getting cold.” Maybe it was because everyone else seemed so incredibly intoxicated, that when Count Olaf spoke, to Violet there was no slurring at all.</p><p>Klaus couldn’t look at Violet, all he could do was watch Sunny with a hawk’s eye. Every time Count Olaf moved or spoke it was like a drop on a roller-coaster, his stomach would drop down to his knees. The two siblings served the food and later the wine at Olaf’s request. Filling up plate after plate till both worried that there might not be enough left for them. Soon enough there was just enough for maybe two of the three siblings but it was fortunate enough at that point, it seemed everyone had had their fill. This was when Count Olaf had begun his speech. Klaus was tuning his voice out; he felt a tension headache start behind his ears from the assault of sound over the course of dinner. Now regarding the fact that Violet was doing the exact opposite of her brother, she was hanging off every word he was saying; someone who knows how this story ends might think this fact either fortunate or unfortunate. Here is where the first part of Count Olaf’s plan really began to take root.</p><p>Count Olaf started off the topic casually enough. He didn’t want the children, especially that four eyed know it all to become suspicious of his plan. More so, he didn’t want Esme to catch on. He really had to give more credit to the infernal woman for continuing her charade of being drunk from her aqueous martinis as a way to make himself lower his boundaries. Esme had the idea that if she pretended to be drunk than a drunk Count Olaf would be more willing to share his secrets with her. She was a most incredulous woman though to be convinced that Count Olaf would not do the same to her. As a result, Esme sat sober in her seat, believing that she was playing him, and Count Olaf sat in his seat, sober and knowing that everything was going to go according to his plan.</p><p>So, there he was, laying down a backstory that any novelist would be proud of. Every so often his eyes would flicker to where Violet was standing next to Klaus by the doors to the kitchen. He couldn’t help but grin when he saw they were more than a step apart and obviously cross with each other about something. Even more so it made him smug to see just how invested Violet was in his speech. “I am happy to announce that I will be directing and staring in a new play with the assistance of all of you, my theater troupe. Esme here will be playing the blushing bride in Al Funcoot’s play, <em>The Marvelous Marriage. </em>I of course will be playing the handsome and single bachelor. Even Justice Strauss from across the street will be playing the role of the judge so it is a very real, and binding marriage. Or well it would be, had Esme not already married some years ago.” Count Olaf leaned in close to Esme to whisper in her ear, all the while his eye remained locked on Violet. “You see Esme, this is why I didn’t dare tell you earlier because I wanted the scene to be as real as it could be. But your beauty will bring in crowds of viewers that I will just have to fudge the ceremony.”</p><p> “Don’t worry my darling Count Olaf. I will play the part perfectly.” Esme’s ginormous ego after being complimented didn’t leave much room in her compact brain to even consider that he was playing her like a fiddle. A fiddle here means, an instrument and the analogy that Esme was being used as an unknowing part in Count Olaf’s plan like a fiddle is an unknowing part in a musician’s performance.</p><p>From her place by the door Violet’s thoughts were going faster that she could keep up. Where one ended another had already begun and she desperately wished that she could just slow her mind down long enough to think clearly about the information she just received. It was then that she felt his eyes on her yet again, while he leaned into that horrible woman’s side. Every time Violet felt his gaze, she swore her skin would burn in his wake. Before she could reject the reflex, her eyes darted up from their study of the scuffed floor to meet his cold dark ones. As quick as they had locked in with his, they flew away again. Now Violet watched as the actors in front of her began to congratulate Count Olaf on his brilliant stroke of genius to put on this play. A couple more glasses of wine were filled and the children could feel the knots in their empty stomachs begin to turn. Concern for Violet bloomed through Klaus’ frustration with his sister. How could she still be standing after working longer than even he had?</p><p>The exhaustion was not lost on Violet though. Among her jumbled thoughts the hunger pushed through all the while her eye lids grew increasingly heavy by the minute. It appeared that the rest of the theater troupe was too feeling that sleepiness because soon enough many of their soft snored replaced their previous conversation. Sunny looked about as fed up as she could be in Count Olaf’s lap; Violet was impressed with how long she had put up being away from her two siblings, however it did not stop the anxiety from taking form in her stomach. Soon enough Sunny would grow fussy over being hungry and tired, but when Violet had made her way to grab Sunny before such an event could happen, one look from Count Olaf had stopped her. Coincidentally in that next moment a shrill cry escaped from Sunny’s lips. Esme looked offended by the youngest Baudelaire’s protest whereas Count Olaf looked more entertained.</p><p>“Perhaps I should take Sunny to lay down? Maybe make her a bottle and fashion a cradle for her in my room. I have been awfully neglectful as her father for keeping her up for so long.” Count Olaf practically ignored Esme then, he was truly only speaking to Violet at the instant; slowly getting up from his chair and walking round the table towards the two older children. “You two can grab her in the morning because I fear with as much cleaning up you have to do before bed, that poor little Sunny won’t be able to stand it.” Violet had to grab Klaus’ arm before he could rip Sunny away from the man.</p><p>“Don’t think for a second that we would ever let you take Sunny away from us. Give us back our sister.” The tension was so thick in the air it could have been cut with a knife; a battle of wills. For fear of Count Olaf’s retaliation to Klaus’ defiance, Violet stepped in between the two males. Her hand pressing into Klaus’ shoulder and the other shockingly enough, to Count Olaf’s forearm. Ever so slightly he could feel the small tremors that shook her hand, the anxiety and fear palpable by her increasingly clammy palm. Count Olaf would be a liar if he didn’t admit that it gave him pleasure to see her willing touch him; not that he wasn’t a liar anyway, more often than not only deceit spewed from him.</p><p>“Klaus can take Sunny up to bed. They can eat something first and then I will stay up to finish cleaning. Would that be suffice Count Olaf?” He made a noise of contemplation, something similar to a drawn-out hum, and dramatically ran his hand along his chin. His eyes traced back and forth between Klaus and Violet. As much as he would enjoy pushing Klaus’ buttons and refuse Violet’s proposal, he felt he couldn’t pass up the opportunity to mess with Violet some more. Already, Count Olaf could plainly see just how exhausted and worn down she was; her resolve to stand firm against him was wearing thin and this was just the first day of his plan.</p><p>“I’ll make you a deal sweet Violet, if you ask me nicely enough and address me as my proper title than I will allow your selfish brother to take the shark tooth baby upstairs to bed. If you don’t do as I ask then you both can say goodnight to Sunny now and I will see you both in the morning. Perhaps you would see her as well.” Through this entire exchange, Klaus was sickened to see Violet lay her hand on Count Olaf and now to watch his sister consider appealing to his requests. Teenagers, especially those who had survived a particularly horrific trauma are notorious for taking their emotions out of proportion; perhaps that is why Klaus felt such a strong wave of anger at his sister when she ultimately made her choice,</p><p>“Please, father, would you be so kind as to allow Klaus and Sunny to peacefully eat their dinner and then retire up to bed for the evening? I promise to clean up everything before I go to bed?” How could Violet even manage to get the words out of her mouth, Klaus wondered to himself. He only saw it as a glass half empty, that Violet was choosing Count Olaf over their actual father. Not once did he stop to consider that it hurt Violet terribly to call Count Olaf her father, and that she was only putting herself in this position as a way to protect him and Sunny. In response to her, Olaf simply held out an irritable Sunny for Klaus to take her. Klaus didn’t even wait for Count Olaf to dismiss him, he just turned around and left towards the kitchen to heat himself some dinner and feed Sunny. Violet had never felt more alone than in that moment of watching to door close on Klaus’ back, he hadn’t even look back at her once.</p><p>“I suggest you start cleaning if you have any hopes to sleep tonight before your new chore list tomorrow.” With that Count Olaf had left Violet to stand there and collect her thoughts, his attention already turned back towards Esme who had silently observed the whole interaction from her place at the table. The hardest part for Violet as she cleaned up was navigating around the sleeping henchmen; some had fallen asleep face first into their plates. All the while her body ached, her mind felt overworked, and her stomach would never let her forget the hunger that plagued it, not even for a second. Count Olaf kept up a pleasant conversation with Esme, every so often casting his vision over to Violet. He wasn’t quite so sure that she was still even keeping tabs on their discussion; her dark eyes seemed far away from that dining room.</p><p>It was as Violet stood washing the dishes that Count Olaf succeeded in sending Esme away, back to her penthouse via a taxi cab.  Jerome would meet her outside, ready to carry her up the many flights of stairs since elevators were currently out. Had the world been a better place, maybe Jerome would have met a woman who treated him right, and most of all loved him. For certain the children would never have lost their parents in a horrific house fire and endured such a miserable life. This does beg the question though that is the world was without bad things than would there ultimately be some good things that are just not as good as others; landing us back to the debate of good versus bad. For everything that was good there had to be a bad. In Violet’s case it was vice versa because once Count Olaf came back into his home, he could hear the teen girl feverously scrubbing just in the other room. In that moment Count Olaf felt he should take pity on her.</p><p>She seemed to be swimming in the green dress that hung off her slim frame, Count Olaf remarked to himself when he pushed through the kitchen door and leaned against the counter. He reminisced about how good it felt to watch Violet and Klaus drift apart. It truly was much easier than he thought to drive the wedge between the two. Klaus was much like every young boy, far too high strung and equally as sensitive so it was only second nature to develop feelings of hatred and resentment. Must be all the testosterone. How could he continue to widen this gap though? He thought to himself while he watched her work. It was obvious that any interaction between himself and Violet, where she was a willing participant was the sweet spot to really get under Klaus’ skin. “Sweet Violet, stop doing the dishes and why don’t you come over here?” Violet wasn’t blind to the fact that Count Olaf had been watching her, but she hadn’t expected him to interact with her. At least with such a soft tone that he possessed then. She put the soapy plate back into the warm water and slowly turned to face him. His face was a mask to the thoughts running behind it.</p><p>“I am almost done cleaning, Count Olaf.” She finally spoke in a hushed voice, almost like her throat was sore but really, she was just so exhausted that the it was the only amount of energy she could muster.</p><p>“Have you eaten yet?” Violet’s stomach growled in response to its insatiable hunger finally being addressed. A sly smile slid across Count Olaf’s face at the noise. “I will take that as a no. I have to be honest orphan, I was quite impressed by your stamina. Almost makes me wonder if your uppity parents made you work around the house. But then, I see your hands and how soft and delicate the skin is that I realize you probably didn’t even tie your own fucking shoes.” He closed the distance between them while he spoke, effectively trapping Violet against the kitchen island. Now he reached forward to grab her hands with his own. There was no hesitation in his movements because he knew that she wouldn’t protest. It was just yesterday that her hands were so delicate looking as if they were made of porcelain, but now the skin was red and angry from the day’s abuse. One fingernail appeared to have been broken at some point based on its jagged end. The rest of her looked about as just worse for wear.</p><p>Violet’s eyes never once came up from their place of fixation on the floor, that would not do for the game that Count Olaf wanted to play. Ever so gently he bent his head down and brought her hands up to his face, so he could place a whisper of a kiss of the backs of her hands. For a flicker of a second, she looked up to what he was doing then cast her gaze back down. Now he turned her hand over to kiss her palms. A slightly bitter taste was left on his lips, he assumed that would be the soap residue left over from her dish washing. Her eyes finally met his then and this time didn’t run away. The final turn of his game ended with Count Olaf placing a firmer kiss of the insides of her wrists. Not once did her eyes turn away. “Let me get you something to eat.” Violet could have gotten whiplash from how fast he dropped her from his grasp and spun away to the far side of the kitchen. Using his height to advantage, he blindly ran his hands along the tops of the cabinets. A noise of excitement escaped him once his hands emerge victorious with a tin clasped between them. “I couldn’t let greedy little orphans’ hands get on my sweet treats, but I figure I could make an exception for my equally sweet Violet.”</p><p>Six obviously store made cupcakes greeted Violet from the tin. Pearly pink frosting a top sweet vanilla cake, each had a ripe raspberry adorning the top. Her mouth salivated just at the sight of them. Unease washed through Violet like a riptide. What was Count Olaf hoping in return if she would grab a cupcake? In a moment of hesitation, he could predict what was running through her mind. “Now as much as I am a gracious and generous father, it does beg the question what you, Violet, should give me in return for such a delicious treat? Any thoughts of suggestions?” Violet’s once quick brain felt like mush. No idea popped into her head quick enough so to fill the long silence Count Olaf chimed in again, “Or perhaps I could just let it slide this time. You did such good work today, I’m quite impressed.”  As he spoke, he dipped a finger into the pristine frosting of a cupcake and waved the dollop of pink goodness around. Violet’s eyes tracked it like a hawk; warning bells going off in her head. “Open wide sweet Violet.”</p>
  </div><div class="fff_chapter_notes fff_foot_notes"><b>Notes for the Chapter:</b><blockquote class="userstuff">
          <p>Hey all! I am so sorry it took me so long to get this out there. Life really does suck, I'm going to be honest.</p><p>Anywho... I didn't plan for Count Olaf to get so crusty so quickly with Violet but that's happening so I do apologize if that's not your cup of tea.</p><p>Keep commenting because it really does make my day better</p>
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